I have been told all of my life

I have been told all of my life that I’m stubborn. My maternal grandmother, who we called Grannie, told me that I was as stubborn as a Missouri mule. As I’ve gotten older, the combativeness has declined, but the tendency to ignore the obvious has become worse.

Last month was a perfect example. I became very ill, but denied that it was serious and kept trying to get over it. I finally went to a 24 hour care center, when I should have gone to the emergency room. Which I did, the next day – thanks to a friend, as by that time I was in so much pain I couldn’t drive.

My Memorial Day started at 2 am with me having emergency surgery. Now, 22 years ago, I spent Labor Day in the hospital with another surgery, and I told my family if I have to do this again in 22 years, let’s call the whole thing off now. I had already gone three days with almost no water intake, and no food. For the next ten days, I was nothing by mouth to allow my intestines to heal from the surgery.

Have you ever been unable to have water? Not a sip, not a drink – just sucking on a sponge or an ice chip. I would dream of huge glasses of cold, icy water, and my being able to drink and drink until I rolled down the hospital halls like a beach ball with legs.

After I was discharged on the 8th, I was so weak that I couldn’t stay alone. So, I stayed in town for a couple of days, then my sister came for me and I went to her home in east Arkansas for several weeks until I mended.

On that Thursday, I knew something was wrong. But, stubborn mule that I am, I tried to say it was an ulcer from stress, and that it would get better. When it didn’t, I tried to diagnose my own illness – and I was very wrong, because I didn’t have kidney stones. If I’d waited another day, I may have been too bad to bring back, as I already had peritonitis from the rupture of my diverticula.  But I would have never guessed it was that bad … and I paid for my guessing.

As the old saying goes, do as I say and not as I do – don’t let this happen to you. Go to the doctor!!

The White River at Cotter

The first time I approached you, I heard your voice
A song, sighing in the tones of a cedar flute
You sang to me, and I knew this was home
Since then, every time I near you, I hear your music
Sometimes very soft, but others bright and joyous
When the drought was so bad you were an echo
Barely speaking, more of a memory than an event
But now, with the rain your voice is shining
You sing to the eagles and hawks that fly over you
Caroling in arpeggios through all the upper ranges
You rejoice in your life!
So do I …

A Day of Frustration

Have you ever had one of those days where you feel as if you need to go outside and scream from frustration, or beat your head against the wall?

I try to provide assistance for my patients, but some days it’s a lost cause. Governmental bureaucracy at its finest works in a race with the slowest snails, constantly dallying and delaying essential services needed NOW, not next month. No matter how many attempts are made from how many directions, the favorite words of bureaucrats are ‘we have to wait until the paperwork is finished.’ That wait, by the way, is probably going to put a certain person into the emergency room by the end of this week.

There is a trend online about Pass It On. In it, a witness sees a random act of kindness, and passes it to another person whom they see in need. Why is it that our government has to have the conscience and rationale of Ebenezer Scrooge, instead of Florence Nightingale or Mother Teresa? Is it because this is a system built upon ‘me’ instead of ‘we’? Or is it something more??

Could it be that our system is so focused on the here and now that it can’t see that it could be destroying what could be in the future – that, in the current mindset of political correctness we are creating Orwell’s 1984 in a more disasterous form than the writer ever imagined. The worst thing to destroy is freedom of thought, freedom of expression, freedom of speech – and that is what is happening in our world, daily.

Who I Am …

The name of my blog is Cherokee Redbird. There is a legend, and a legend behind this name.

In Cherokee mythology, the redbird, or cardinal, was the Daughter of the Sun. The Sun did not like man, and so ploted to be rid of this irritation. But the Cherokee and the Nunnehi – the little spirits – were aware of this, and tried to stop her from cooking all humans out of existance. By accident, the Daughter of the Sun was killed, and her spirit went to the Darkening land of the Dead.

The Sun stopped cooking the humans. In fact, she stopped shining at all, mourning for her child. This caused a deep freeze to attack the earth – the last Ice Age. The Cherokee were told by the Nunnehi they had to return the Daughter of the Sun from the Darkening land. This had never been done. They were told to grab her, nail her into a wood box, and to not open that box for any reason until they reached home. As they were told, the men went to the Darkening land and captured the Daughter of the Sun. All the way back, she yelled and begged to be released from the coffin. The men did not listen. Finally, when they were only a mile or so from home, the woman whispered in a very weak voice, pleading them to only crack the coffin so that she may breathe. The men did – and a Redbird flew out of the coffin and back to the Darkening land. Death was not defeated.

I was given the nickname of Redbird at the Cherokee National Holidays in the 1980s, by then Assistant Chief Wilma Mankiller. That Holiday, the t-shirt was a crimson red – and by the time the day was over, you couldn’t tell where the shirt stopped and I started. Wilma and several friends came to my small craft table, and she teased me, saying that I was the Daughter of the Sun after she became the Redbird. The nickname stuck – and when I chose a name for my business, I translated this into English, naming it Cherokee Redbird.

As the Daughter of the Sun went to the Darkening land, returned to the Living and then went back to the Darkening land, this is also who I am. I am a hospice social worker, but I am also a woman who has looked Death in the eye twice, and survived. I am an Elder for my Native American comrades in Arkansas. I am a craftsman. I am a writer. I am an advocate for those who are where I was for so many, many years.

I am Totsuwa, Uwetsi agehya Nvda. Don’t worry – I’m not always so serious!